From Peeta's Perspective
by glp123
Summary: A collection of short extracts from The Hunger Games, Catching Fire and Mockingjay books told from Peeta's POV. Rating may change as more stories are added. All rights go to the ever-inspiring Collins!


I wake up to feel my flat, featherless pillow against my face. It's too hot in this room, and I realise that my mother must have closed the window while I was sleeping. My eyes begin to open as the dawn creeps through my window. It's time, I think, time to get up, and head downstairs to the bakery.

By the time I drag myself out of bed I realise it's gone 4am and I'm running very late – my mother, father and brothers will already be downstairs, working away at their designated jobs.

'You're lucky mother's out back, Peeta' says James, my eldest brother as I slip past sacks of flour towards him. "She'd be furious if she found out you were late again."

"I didn't mean to oversleep," I reply, "I just can't get up when she closes that –"

"Shut up and get back to work," yells my mother, loud and domineering as she comes through the back door and slams it shut behind her. James and I look at each other briefly before he turns back to his work station and continues kneading the dough that he'd been working on. I move towards my own station, pull out my utensils and starting work.

By the time the cheese buns go in the oven, my father comes into the back room having finished setting up shop out front.

"You're lucky she wasn't in the room when you came down late, Peeta." He says, quietly. My father knows all about my mother's temper, but he pretends to be ignorant when it comes to how badly she treats her children. I know what the other merchants and people from the Seam think of, but they don't fully understand the situation. Not even my father does.

"I know," I say, "I really didn't mean for it to happen."

"You know I understand, Peeta," says my father with a kind, warm-hearted smile. "She's not the easiest person to deal with, but it's just something we Mellark men have to deal with, right?"

"Right." I reply, and he walks back to the front of the shop, rearranging the display of cakes and cookies I had decorated earlier. He wants the shop to look as nice as possible for the cameras.

I start making my way past the back door to the rickety old staircase that leads to my family's home when I see a shadow appear outside, just beyond the fence by the old apple tree. As the figure moves into the light morning sun I catch a proper glimpse at the shadow's face – it's Gale Hawthorne. He's probably here to trade with my father. I'm not really in the mood to talk with him, so I carry on walking past the door and back up to the bedroom I share with my two brothers.

It's still too hot in my room so I decide to open the window. As I do, I glance down to see Gale and my father at the back door. Gale is holding squirrels and my father a brown paper bag which must be full of bread. They exchange the items with a nod and a handshake, and then Gale walks off, back towards the direction of the Seam and the woods. I know where he's going, and who he's going to see. I'd be a fool if I didn't.

My mother interrupts my train of thought by bashing her hand against the bedroom door and shouting at me to get a move on. You think she'd be a little bit kinder to me, today of all days, but I'm not afforded that kind of luxury.

"Peeta! Stop daydreaming and take those damn cheese buns out of the oven. I swear you'll get a right whack with the back of my hand if you let them burn, boy." You'd think she could just do it herself if she was so worried.

I open the door and move silently past her, back down the stairs and to the oven. The buns are fine, very nearly done, but I've got a few minutes to spare. I walk through to the front where my father now stands, gazing out of the window. As I walk up to him, I see that he's looking at peacekeepers making the final preparations for today's ceremony. The Capitol symbol is waving in every line of my vision. I let out a deep breath and close my eyes, and feel my father's hand on my shoulder. That's when I finally allow myself to think, don't let it be me. Don't let it be her.


End file.
